The Wedding
by Burnt Cheese
Summary: Victoire and Teddy's wedding is a disaster and Rose Weasley is the unofficial wedding planner. Hilariousness guaranteed!
1. Disaster, Part I

Merlin.

Oh, sweet Merlin.

This is a _disaster_.

Actually, disaster would be a gross understatement. Bloody hell, a tornado ripping through the whole of Ottery St Catchpole would be like a five-year-old's birthday party compared to this catastrophe of cataclysmic proportions.

Why, why, _why_ did I ever volunteer to plan Victoire's wedding? I'm usually good or organizing and sorting out things but I have clearly overestimated my own abilities. A _wedding?_What the sodding hell was I _thinking_?

I honestly don't know when it started going all wrong. It's about three hours to the wedding now and I'm _this_close to flinging my planning book away, curling up on the ground in a fetal position and breaking out in uncontrollable hysterics.

Why, you ask?

One—the photographer I hired bailed out at the last fecking minute and I was forced to hand over a battered, old camera to the Scamander twins, Lorcan and Lysander. Now, I don't have anything against those two, but knowing them all they'd probably take pictures of are the guests' feet and sky.

Two—the wedding cake isn't even close to ready yet. Grandma Molly, Aunt Ginny and my mum are currently slaving away in the kitchen, making another ginormous wedding cake after the last one burnt.

Three—it looks like it's going to rain. I wish I were kidding, but I'm bloody serious. There's some old wive's tale that says rain on a wedding day is good luck but if it rains today I'll jump off the highest window of The Burrow.

If I mess this up, Victoire will _kill_ me. Both Teddy and Vic aren't here yet, but when they see the chaos and bedlam my incompetence and inadequacy as a wedding planner has caused, Vic will grab the nearest kitchen knife and go for my throat. She'd already been apprehensive enough, making me her wedding planner. She'd wanted to go for Beatrice Wandheart, this dead famous wedding planner from Hogsmeade, but I'd insisted.

'No!' I rushed over, shaking my fists. 'The marquee is supposed to go over _there_!' I shrieked, pointing in the other direction, under a huge apple tree. 'Over there, you eejits!'

Fred Weasley (cousin) and Frank Longbottom (close family friend—also son of Professor Longbottom) turned around, wands in their hands. 'Eh?' Frank asked.

'Over there!'

'Oh. Sorry. I could've sworn you said next to the chicken coop…' Fred scratched his head and shrugged, waving his wand so that the supporting poles of the white marquee (courtesy of Millament's Magic Marquees—they're very good) collapsed upon themselves and floated eight feet off the ground.

Dear goodness. Near the chicken coop? Do these people have any ounce of brains in their skulls or what?

'Make sure it's directly under the apple tree.' I instruct, checking my battered brass watch. I inspect the backyard of The Burrow one last time, feeling all panicky inside. The normally extremely messy and cluttered backyard of Grandpa Arthur and Grandma Molly's home has been completely cleared of its chicken excrement and gnome droppings. The grass has been trimmed within an inch of its life and there are fairy lights draped everywhere, twinkling in the late afternoon sun. It looks lovely, if I may say so myself. There were members of the Weasley-Potter-Delacour family rushing around everywhere, holding plates of canapés or trays of Firewhiskey. Which is a lot of people, considering us Weasleys make up about half the world's population.

'No, wait, put the chairs under the marquee.' I screamed at a couple of distant Weasley relatives who were gormlessly lugging chairs about, looking uncertain. They snapped into action, dragging the chairs on the ground.

'Don't get those chairs dirty, you nitwits!'

'Rose!' Albus (cousin) made this way through the throng, panting. 'The band just sent over a Patronus—they won't be able to make it.'

'What?! But we've already paid a fifty galleon deposit!'

Albus cringed. 'They said something about one of their members down with spattergroit.'

'Gah.' I hastily flipped through my planner, chewing my quill in anxiety. 'We'll have to make do without the band. Stupid tossers.' Shit, this wedding is turning into one giant clusterfuck.

Albus nodded, glasses askew and panting slightly. 'Where's James, by the way?'

'You mean he's not _here_ yet?' I had a heart attack. James is Teddy's best man. He also has the wedding rings. 'Don't tell me he's still asleep in his flat?' James, being nineteen, had moved out of the Potter Manor and rented out this ratty flat in London. I've been there once or twice and I nearly vomited from the stench.

'Dunno. Maybe.'

'Wake him up! Make sure he gets here on time!' I fixed Albus with a deathly glare I'd perfected from two years of being a Hogwarts Prefect. 'Or else.' I hissed. His green eyes widened and he backed away, fear evident in his expression. Even though James and Albus essentially come from the same gene pool, Albus sometimes shows signs of being an intelligent life form. Which is more than what I can say for James, I'm sure.

Albus galloped off, and I went over to the newly erected marquee. 'Perfect!' I yelled over to Fred and Frank. 'Now go get your dress robes on!'

I spun back, heart thudding like mad, and stepped into The Burrow's threshold, nearly colliding with Uncle Bill who was carefully holding several plates of finger sandwiches. 'Whoops!' he said, nimbly sidestepping me, winking. Aunt Fleur followed closely behind, bawling her eyes out. Even though she was almost forty-three, she could just about hold her own next to most of the girls my age (including me). I've heard Mum and Aunt Ginny reference her as Phlegm before but whenever I ask Mum what this means she just laughs at me.

'I can't believe my little Vic eez getting married!' she howled, eyes rimmed with red but still managing to look utterly magnificent.

'Hello, Aunt Fleur—'

'Look!' Aunt Fleur shoved a picture frame in my face, nearly taking out my eye in the process. 'Look at leetle Victoire!'

I looked dutifully at the photo, blinking at the close proximity. Mini-Vic smiled at me innocently in the picture, hair in dinky little blue bows and wearing shoes with silver buckles. Mini-Vic waved. Yes, well, hello to you, too.

'That's nice, Aunt Fleur.' I wriggled past her.

'Why do zey 'ave to grow up so fast?' was the last thing I heard Aunt Fleur wail before I bounded up stairs, whizzing up three at a time and banging my shin on a creaky step. I burst through the first door I saw. 'Lily! What're you still doing here?' I yelped at her. 'You're not even in your bridesmaid dress yet!' She was lazing about on a bed, red hair splayed out beneath her and bopping her head along to some truly horrible Weird Sisters music from a wizard radio. She's going through this phase (or at least, Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny are hoping it's a phase) of obsessing over Weird Sisters. Hence, she wears far too much eyeliner and has these fake piercings everywhere (the only way Lily were to get real piercings was if Aunt Ginny was rotting in her grave).

'They aren't here yet.' At least, that's what I think she said, but that made absolutely no sense. 'Not here yet?' I repeated faintly.

'Yes. They're not here yet.' Lily enunciated clearly.

The ground swayed beneath me and I clutched at the door frame, blinking rapidly. 'Madam Malkin's hasn't had them sent over yet?'

'Don't think so. Go ask Roxy.' Why does she sound so _casual_? Like the total destruction of what should've been the wedding of the century wasn't happening right under her pointy nose.

I slammed her door harder than necessary, and ran along the landing. Shit, shit, shit! Madam Malkin's said the dresses would be here by three! It's already four! And the wedding starts at seven. I'm dead.

I burst through another door. Hugo screamed girlishly, toppling off his bed. 'Oy! I was having a nap!'

'A nap?' I said, outraged. 'There is a disaster going on outside and you're lying down over here, having a nap? Get your lazy arse off the bed and go down to help in the kitchen!'

'Bridesmaid dresses are here!' someone shouted. I literally flew down the stairs, panting and huffing. I don't think I've ever ran so much in my life. Uncle Charlie was standing at the bottom of the stairs, holding up several bunches of plastic and taffeta. I nearly sobbed with relief, shaking as I took the dresses from him. 'Thank you thank you thank you!' I blubbered, probably scaring Uncle Charlie a little.

'Er—Rosie? Take it easy—it's just a wedding. You look as though you're about to go into shock.' His freckly, shiny face looked at me in concern.

Just a wedding?

_Just a wedding_?

Bloody men. They obviously don't understand a single thing about women.

I whirled back, disappearing up the stairs. Bursting into Lily's room again, I held up a pink taffeta dress and tossed it at her. 'Put it on and be downstairs in ten minutes! You need to practice walking down the carpet!'

Lily sighed, turned off the radio and pulled the dress out of its crackly plastic. 'Yuck.' She pulled a face. 'Why does it have to be _pink_?'

'Because Vic wants us to be in pink, alright?' I replied, frazzled. Lily held it up against herself, frowning.

I stared at her, stomach churning. My vision swam. This… this has to be some sort of hallucination.

'The dresses are too small.' Lily commented. A tiny, frilly, pink frock barely bigger than the tip of my finger is what I see.

'Merlin fuck me.' I leaned against the door frame, abruptly dizzy and woozy. Vic will never forgive me. I mean, a bunch of bridesmaids, trotting down the carpet in dresses that barely cover our bums? I'll have to move out of the country, Vic will never cease hunting me down—

'Magical folk, remember?' Lily snorted with laughter, apparently noticing the shock and horror on my face. 'Engorgement Charm.'

'Oh, right.'

I fumbled around for my wand. 'Engorgio.'

The dress magically expanded, and the panic in my chest subsided. 'Okay, they're alright now.' Lily pushed me out and slammed the door in my face.

Alright. Who else is a bridesmaid, again? I flipped through my planner again. Ah, here it is. Me, Dom, Roxy and Molly. Right.

Oh God, if I ever make it through this alive it'll be a miracle.

--

Two hours to the wedding.

Things have gotten infinitesimally worse.

I stalked across the backyard, furiously spitting. I could kill everyone right now. James _still_hasn't shown up, the florist isn't here with the white roses I ordered, I haven't yet found a replacement for the band and the cake is still in the midst of being iced.

To top it all off, those stupid, disgusting gnomes Grandpa Arthur insists on keeping are now popping out of their respective holes to gawp at everyone who's running around trying to keep things in order.

'Go away, you little squit.' I snarled at a particularly ugly and knobbly one, kicking it hard in the stomach. It squealed, scrunching up its beady little eyes and flew ten feet away, squirming. More gnomes come swarming, curious.

I ploughed mercilessly through the small army of gnomes and hurried over to the gate, trying to see if the florists were coming. Sure enough, a young woman in purple robes came running up the hill, wheezing like an old man. 'Here's—the—flowers—' she panted. A few other workmen jogged after her, holding aloft beautiful, elaborate bunches of white roses.

'Took you long enough.' I snapped, clicking open the gate to let them in. The woman gave me an affronted gaze but wisely didn't say anything further. I would've kicked her in the face. 'Put them around those ornate pots I set around the marquee.'

And then I ran off again, already soaked in sweat. I passed by a still weepy Aunt Fleur. She burst into tears again. 'White roses!' she blew her nose in a scrap of lace, Uncle Bill gently patting her back. '_I_had white roses at my wedding!'

'Rose!'

It's James. He walked over lazily, his black, tufty hair closely resembling a birds' nest and hands in his pockets. 'Blimey, things are crazy around here—'

I hit him hard around his head, eyes flashing. 'Why didn't you come earlier! You're two hours late, you arsehole!'

James yelped, clutching at his forehead. 'I'm sorry I couldn't make it earlier—'

'Sorry sorry sorry!' I screeched. 'Bloody lot of help that word'll do! Make yourself useful and de-gnome the backyard. Those gnomes are at it again.'

'Right.' James saluted me and went towards the general direction of the gnomes.

'Oh, you brought the rings, didn't you?'

James suddenly spun around, horrorstruck. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no oh no…

'Relax, I brought them, alright?' he fished about in his pockets and produced two velvet boxes, beaming reassuringly.

'Don't do that!' I wailed.

I went inside The Burrow again, narrowing my eyes. Why aren't the bridesmaids down yet? I squirmed past Aunt Ginny, who was balancing two trays of mini-strawberry tarts. 'Alright, Rosie? This wedding's turning out to be—argh!'

When I whirled back around, Aunt Ginny was sprawled on the green grass, groaning. The two trays of strawberry tarts were completely ruined, scattered all over. A gnome crept over and as quick as wink, stole away with several mini-strawberry tarts.

'What happened?' I hurriedly helped her up

'Tripped over a gnome.' Aunt Ginny breathed heavily. 'Sweet Circe, I've always hated those.'

'The strawberry tarts!' I moaned.

'Don't worry, we'll be alright. Grandma Molly's made enough food to feed an entire militia.' Aunt Ginny waved me off, red hair glinting in the sunlight. 'Why aren't you in your bridesmaid dress yet?'

Fuck!

'Argh, I forgot!' I groaned. 'I'll go get it on in a moment. Oh, Aunt Gin, d'you know anyone with any musical talent?'

'Eh?'

'Our band backed out at the last minute.' I explained.

'I dunno. Your uncle Percy used to be rather good at singing—' Aunt Ginny started giggling.

I'm desperate, I'll take anyone. 'Fantastic. Next time you see him tell him he's our band, alright?'

I dashed off, trying to remember where I last put my bridesmaid dress. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone whoosh out of the fireplace in a blaze of green fire and ash.

'Vic! Teddy!' I said in a much higher decibel than usual, laughing manically. I hope they can't tell that it's nervous laughter. Vic looks positively radiant, and Teddy is looking at Vic like he can't believe they're getting married. His hair is a dapper shade of brown today. 'He—hello!' I stammered.

'Hello!' Vic smiled widely. 'How's everything going, O Wedding Planner?'

I involuntarily glanced towards the window. James was busy hurling gnomes by their feet. He released a gnome and it soared. Unfortunately, a hired waiter pushing a cart of empty champagne glasses passed by and got conked right on the head by the flying gnome. Even from over here it looked like it was agonizingly painful.

'Oh, everything's going fine.' I reassured them, smiling through gritted teeth. 'Come on, we've only got about one hour left, get into your wedding dress. Ted, your formal wear is with my Dad.'

'Right.' Vic was ecstatic. 'I'm so glad you're my wedding planner, you seem to be getting along just fine.' She grinned at me. Oh, Vic. If only you knew. You'd hate me forever and ever. Me, Rose Weasley, the person who single-handedly ruined the most special day of your life.

When they went off, I scurried up the stairs. And then Lily, Roxy and Molly came barreling down, all encased in bright taffeta.

'Yeugh, these dresses are revolting.' Roxy complained. 'It's got _lace_on it.'

'Vic insisted.' I puffed, out of breath. Then I saw Lily. 'What in the world?'

Lily had her dress on, but she'd drawn several more layers of eyeliner around her eyes and she'd slathered on black lipstick so she resembled someone who'd been dead for three weeks. There were some seriously scary spiky bracelets all over her skinny wrists. On her feet are black boots. 'No.' I said flatly, crossing my arms. 'Just—no.'

'Told you.' Roxanne admonished.

'_Why_?_'_Lily whined, begging.

'Get that ridiculous makeup off now. And where the sodding fuck is Dom?' I asked furiously.

'Off with Lysander, probably.' Molly giggled. Lysander and Dom have been a couple for a few months now, though I honestly don't see what Dom sees in Lysander. I mean, he's a nice bloke and all, but he's seriously confusing. All he talks about are the benefits of Gurdyroot solution and why Nargle tend to breed faster during autumn.

'Go find her!' I demanded. 'Please!' I begged, breaking down. I don't think I can take this much stress anymore.

Someone please just put me out of my misery and drive a sharp object through my heart.

--

Fuck, fuck and double fuck. By the time it was six-thirty I was in a frenzy of dread.

I've managed to squeeze inside my bridesmaid dress and it's utterly hideous. I felt like a real tart. And the lace was _prickly._I itched in all the wrong places. Plus it has boning in it. They make my chest look simply_enormous_. Under normal circumstances this would be very desirable but I'm going to be walking down a carpet with hundreds of members of my family looking on, including my Mum and my Dad.

I'd managed to wipe most of my sweat off so my face doesn't look so shiny but my hair is a lost cause so I leave it at that. I'm dreading going downstairs and facing the debacle I've created. Perhaps I could skip the entire wedding altogether. I'm sure people won't notice. I could run away to Aruba once it was done, though Vic would probably still find me there. She's relentless.

Sucking in a shaky breath, I walked downstairs slowly and into the dusky backyard. Crikey, it looks gorgeous. I scanned the area for a bit. Alright, cake's in place. The guests were filing the front gate, and Louis and Albus were obediently showing the guests their way. The food was already arranged neatly on long tables along the marquee. So far so good.

Argh. Knowing my luck, some thunderous storm would probably come rumbling by. Or possibly a freak invasion of goblins. It could happen.

'Lorcan! Lysander!' I spotted the two golden-haired twins ambling along, each gripping a camera. Even in the dark their yellow-with-red-polka-dots robes almost blinded me.

'Well, hello Rose.' Lorcan greeted me dreamily. Or it could be Lysander. I've never been able to tell them apart. 'Fancy seeing you here.'

I decided against telling him that I'd been running around here since six o' clock this morning. 'Let's see the pictures you've got.'

Lysander (Lorcan?) handed me a huge wad of photographs. 'Here.'

I stared at the one on top of the stack. 'What the bloody hell is this?' I can't tell what's in the picture. A black blur and a splotch of blue. My heart sank.

'That's a Bow-Legged Burgle.' Lorcan/Lysander informed me vaguely. 'We were lucky enough to catch one on a picture.'

'Okay.' I tried to keep my temper in check. I flicked through the others, and was horrified to find about ninety percent of them were pictures of gnomes. Bloody gnomes. The other ten percent were blurry and completely indecipherable. 'Gnomes.' I managed. Gnomes staring into the lens, bewildered, gnomes lifting up their neauseating feet and sniffing at their privates, gnomes giving the camera the middle finger (Uncle George and my Dad supposedly taught them that).

'Yes, gnomes.' Lysander/Lorcan immediately brightened up. 'They're lovely. I'd no idea The Burrow had so many. They were so friendly, too. Almost as friendly as a Red Eyed Aye Aye.'

'Yes, a Red Eyed Aye Aye.' Lorcan/Lysander echoed, nodding enthusiastically. Honestly, Voldemort wearing a top hat, pink bow and high-heeled stiletto boots while dancing the Hokey Pokey with his Death Eaters in a grassy, dandelion-infested pasture would make considerably more sense than what Lorcan and Lysander go on about most of the time.

'How nice. The thing is…' I carefully chose my words. 'Could you possibly take more pictures of people?'

Lorcan and Lysander both looked politely confuzzled. 'People.' Lorcan/Lysander murmured, contemplating. 'Why people? Gnomes are so much more interesting.'

Because it's a wedding! You're taking wedding photos! We're not having a wedding for fucking gnomes now, are we?

'You see the marquee?' I pointed.

Lorcan and Lysander looked, eyes distinctly unfocused. 'A marquee!' he exclaimed, as though he'd just noticed this. 'How wonderful. Blueberry Infesting One-Legged Gorgons are terribly attracted to marquees.'

'Yes. When Vic and Teddy appear, I want you to take as many pictures as you can of them, alright?'

'Okay, then.' Lorcan and Lysander said simultaneously.

I left the twins and hurried over to the marquee, out of breath. Thankfully, all the bridesmaids were there, crowded behind the giant flaps of the marquee. A low buzz filled the air as guests slowly gathered in the marquee, seating themselves comfortably in chairs. The waiters were standing to one side, trays at the ready. The box of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes' best fireworks Uncle George promised were sitting innocently by the side, vibrating slightly.

Vic was already there, looking absolutely beautiful in her gold trimmed, strapless wedding grown. There's a veil in her hair, and she was gripping a bunch of white roses. Louis and Lucy were in their robes, each holding a cushion with a bright gold wedding band nestled in the middle. Uncle Bill was holding Vic gently by the crook of her arm, practically glowing with pride and joy. Everything seemed perfect, except—

'Where's Dom?' I asked sharply as Lily handed me a bouquet.

Right on cue, Dom stumbled over. Is she—is she drunk?

I'm going to annihilate her. When I'm done all that's left of Dom is going to be a pile of smoking ashes.

'H'ghloo.' She slurred.

'You what?' Molly asked, brows furrowing.

'You're drunk.' I told her tightly.

'Yesh.' Dom sniggered. She flipped her silvery hair back, cheeks red. 'I loooove champagne. And fit waiters.'

'Dominique!' Uncle Bill reprimanded, a half-hearted smile on her face.

Ah well, no one's going to tell the difference between a drunk bridesmaid and a sober one. I shoved Dom in front of me. 'Get in line.' I whispered loudly, hearing a couple of bells ring from the other side of the flap. The guests went silent. Someone started snorting and weeping uncontrollably. Ah. Aunt Fleur, no doubt.

'Who's that?' Vic hissed.

'Your mum. She's been like that all day.' Uncle Bill murmured.

Another ringing of bells. Louis and Lucy tentatively pushed open the flaps. Everyone seated in the marquee shuffled around, beaming. The two younger ones strode purposefully through, holding their cushions with utmost care. Of course, I'd threatened to wring their necks earlier on if they every dared to drop the rings, but I'm sure I didn't scare them _too_much.

Us bridesmaids gracefully marched out. My eyes flitted around, checking for any imperfections. Right, the marquee's a bit wonky and the gold carpet is scuffed but I don't think Vic will notice. There's Mum and Dad in the front row, smiling at me.

Holy hell, I did it.

I actually planned a wedding.

I was so elated by this little revelation that I forgot to watch my step. My satin shoes twisted themselves in the carpet and I went flying.

Everything seemed to go in slow-motion after that. My arms were flailing, my dress was ripping, the carpet loomed up to meet me—

I fell spectacularly and hit the floor, grunting in pain and shock. Gasps and sniggers of laughter broke out. I flushed. 'I'm alright, nothing too major—'

Uncle Bill hefted me up, grinning. 'Nice one, Rosie.'

'Oh, shut up.' I muttered, face on fire. I walked on, trying to shake my mortification off.

More gasps and sighs of admiration ensued as Vic glided through the marquee, smiling joyfully. I looked ahead; Teddy was gawping disbelievingly at Vic, as though he couldn't believe he'd managed to land her. Let's face it, Vic is out of _everyone's_league. James stood beside Teddy, looking distinctly uncomfortable in his formal robes. I glanced up front; Louis was concentrating so hard on carrying the cushion he was nearly going cross-eyed. Lucy had her tongue poking out, focusing.

We reached the end of the carpet. Alright, so far nothing's been set on fire. Yet.

Vic walked up to meet Teddy. A frizzy-haired, bespectacled, wizened old man was standing there, wearing extravagantly colorful robes. The entire marquee fell completely silent. Now, it wasn't just Aunt Fleur who was getting absurdly emotional. My Mum was sniffling into Dad's handkerchief. Probably remembering her own wedding. Well, I can't blame her for crying. She married Dad, after all.

Uncle Bill gave Vic a light peck on her cheek before Vic went to stand opposite of Teddy, smiling from ear to ear.

I zoned out for a bit, staring at Vic and Teddy's delighted faces. I felt a stab of jealousy. I'm not saying I have fancy Teddy or anything, it's just that I _want_ this. What Teddy and Vic have had since they were six or something. Everyone knew they were going to get married the moment six-year-old Teddy told four-year-old Vic she was pretty and she punched him in his face, it was only a matter of time. When they finally kissed on Platform 9 and 3/4 six years ago, no one was surprised in the least when James went around telling anyone who'd listen (Merlin, six years have gone and James hasn't changed in the least--still as intefering and nosy as always).

Apparently the old man must've called for the rings, because the next thing I knew Louis and Lucy were striding up front, handing Vic and Teddy their respective rings. Teddy's hand shook a little as he retrieved his, and the both of them held them out.

'I promise you, Victoire Apolline Weasley, that I will be your loving and loyal husband from now on. I will share with you all of life's joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, until death parts us.' Teddy slid the simple wedding band on Vic's fourth finger, smiling. I had a fleeting glimpse around again. I swore I saw James tearing up, but he denied it vehemently later on.

'I promise you, Theodore Remus Lupin, that I will be your loving and loyal wife from now on. I will share with you all of life's joy and sorrow, pleasure and pain, until death parts us.' Vic's voice was steady. She caressed Teddy's hand ever so briefly before putting it on Teddy. In front of me, I heard Roxy and Dom sigh breathily.

'As a ceaseless reminder of this hour, and of the promise you have made to each other, these rings also speak of the oneness you now experience as husband and wife.

_Now you will feel no rain, for each of you will be shelter to the other._  
_Now you will feel no cold, for each of you will be warmth to the other._  
_Now you will feel no loneliness, for each of you will be a companion to the other._  
_Now you are two bodies, but there is only one life before you._  
_Go now to your dwelling place, to enter the days of your life together._  
_And may your days be good, and long upon the earth.'_

I swear, the old man's words seemed to put a spell upon everyone. Bloody hell, now _I_want to get married. All I need is a groom.

Because they have so affirmed, in love and knowledge of the other, so also do I declare that Victoire Apolline Weasley and Theodore Remus Lupin are now husband and—'

'No!' someone shrieked so loudly everyone in the marquee jumped.

I reeled towards the general direction of the voice and saw that a slightly deranged looking woman of about twenty was standing at the entrance of the marquee, panting and gasping. 'No! You can't marry her!'

Wait, what? I'm fairly sure this woman's announcement isn't supposed to be part of the wedding.

'You can't marry her!' she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks. Teddy was completely bamboozled.

'W-what?' he stammered, confused.

A slow rumble of shock and incredulity swept over everyone. Aunt Fleur was nearly apoplectic with rage. 'Who eez zis girl?' she said in a loud undertone, glaring. 'I 'ave never seen 'er before!'

'Don't marry her, please.' She begged. 'I love you and I'm—I'm pregnant with your baby!'

* * *

**Second chapter coming very very soon! :D**


	2. Disaster, Part II

**Author's Note:** Thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! :)

* * *

Several things happened after that woman's announcement:

One, I dropped my bouquet in shock and let out a small shriek of surprise. After I'd been to hell and back to make sure this wedding went smoothly, out came this stranger who destroys the whole thing with a few sentences. I am going to hate her for the rest of my life.

Two, everyone else stood up and began shouting, gasping and swearing, saying things like, 'I _knew_ Vic was too good for Teddy!' and 'That's complete bollocks!' and 'Who the fuck is that woman?' There was a lot of shaking of fists and clapping of hands over mouths. Aunt Fleur rushed over to the cowering woman and screeched, 'You're lying! Zat baby eez not Teddy's!' and promptly fainted.

Three, Vic turned as white as a sheet and turned back to face Teddy. I could barely hear anything over the bedlam, but I could just make out Vic whisper, 'Is that true? You _cheated _on me?' Teddy's had also taken on the pallor and complexion of a bowl of uncooked porridge. 'No!' he insisted vehemently, reaching for Vic's hand. 'Of course it fucking isn't!'

Four, Dom let out a snarl, flung her small bouquet of white roses away and tackled the woman to the ground. I shrieked in alarm.

Five, Uncle Bill unsheathed his wand, pointed it to his throat and muttered a spell. His voice, magically amplified, rung through everyone's ears as he bellowed, 'QUIET!'

Everyone fell silent. Dom was in the midst of tugging on the woman's stringy blonde hair, and she froze. The poor woman's face was streaked with dirt, and she was gasping, clutching at her tummy. I'm not defending the woman, or anything, but she _is _pregnant. Merlin, _pregnant._ With Teddy's child.

How could Teddy have been so fucking _stupid_?

I mean, I know he's a bloke and he only thinks with one thing but I always thought Teddy was better than that. Now he's ruined everything. The way I see it, Teddy's got two options: marry this woman and raise his kid and Vic will hate him forever. Ted will have a miserable life. Or the other option—cast an Obliviate Charm over everyone in this marquee and kill the woman, including his unborn child.

'Explain yourself.' Uncle Bill turned on Teddy, a deadly expression on his face. I reckon this was the first time I'd ever been properly afraid of Uncle Bill. The deep scars on his face made him seem seriously sinister.

'I've never seen her before!' Teddy exclaimed desperately. 'You've got to believe me!'

Everyone turned around in unison as the woman staggered to her feet. She walked steadily down the aisle, her head held high. She can't hold a candle to Vic. When she got about halfway, she paused. Then her face went even paler.

'Er.' She said. Then her face flushed Weasley red. 'You're not Horace McKinnon. This isn't the McKinnon wedding, is it?'

Everyone paused, hardly daring to believe their ears.

Holy fuck. Don't tell me—she got the wrong_ wedding_?

'No.' Vic said hoarsely. 'The McKinnon's live on the other side of the hill.'

Several people burst into relieved laughter, but most of us were livid at the woman for nearly sending everyone in the marquee into cardiac arrest, myself included. I cannot believe she barged in like this and made Aunt Fleur faint for nothing. For bloody nothing.

Teddy sagged in obvious relief. 'Thanks.' He told the woman sarcastically. 'Now will you please go ruin someone else's wedding?'

The woman, retreated, mortified. 'I'm terribly sorry. Er—carry on, now.' With that, she turned around and shot out of our marquee, off to the McKinnon's.

'Well.' The wizened old wizard said dryly, readjusting his sleeves 'That was interesting. Can we please continue?'

--

Twenty minutes later—after everyone had gotten over their minor heart attacks—Vic and Teddy were officially married. Aunt Fleur came around eventually (we waited until she was conscious until we continued the wedding—Aunt Fleur would've torn each and every one of us from limb to limb if she missed it).

Everyone in the marquee stood up and clapped when the old wizard pronounced them both lawfully wedded husband and wife, though some of the cheers and whoops were still a bit dazed.

'I nearly died when that woman came in.' Lily shuddered. 'Imagine if what that woman was saying about Teddy was actually true!'

I watched as the chairs magically disappeared and a dance floor appeared in the middle. 'I pity the McKinnons, though. Who knew the both of us would be having a wedding on the same night?'

'Yeah. Barking mad.' Lily muttered in reply. 'Well—at least they're going to be talking about this for years. See you—I'm off to get this stupid dress off.'

I nodded vaguely, standing in the corner and looking around. Things are more or less going according to plan—the bottles of champagne I charmed earlier on were bobbing six feet above the ground, floating about to fill empty glasses. The simply enormous cake Grandma Molly, Aunt Ginny and my Mum baked looked perfect. Food seemed delicious. I'm still half-expecting something to be set on fire, though.

I walked around, passing by Grandma Molly and Uncle Bill ('Your hair's much too long—why won't you ever let me cut it, dear?'). Some jazzy music began to play, and people started shuffling onto the dance floor, swaying about. Vic and Ted were in the middle, arms around each other and looking as though they were in their own little world. Yes—I'm extremely jealous. I'm fairly sure I've never had what Ted and Vic have with a bloke before.

I glanced about, making sure nothing was amiss, and—holy fuck!

I stared, open-mouthed and completely mortified, as my Mum and Dad began dancing. And they're truly horrible. Dad sort of flung his arms around and shuffled his feet, huge grin on his face. Mum is swaying around, shaking her hips as though she was being electrocuted. Actually, the both of them look as though they're having some sort of seizure, what with their jerky movements and spasming limbs. Good God. No wonder I'm so useless at dancing—it's obviously genetic.

Why can't they dance like Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny? All _they're_ doing is swaying from left to right.

'Hello, everybody!' someone said. I turned around, only to see Uncle Percy standing on a small stage in the front of the marquee, smiling nervously. 'It's a lovely evening, isn't it?'

What's he doing there?

Oh, right. I told Aunt Ginny to tell him he was our entertainer for tonight. I'm a little apprehensive, to be honest.

'I'll be singing a song for you lot tonight.' He announced nervously, and coughed. His wand was pointed at his throat—probably another Sonorus. 'I'm not a very good singer but I'll be singing one song. This is one of my Mum's favorites—A Cauldron Full Of Hot Strong Love by Celestina Warbeck.'

There's scattered applause, and for some reason, Aunt Fleur (somewhere near the cake) wailed, 'No! Not zat song again! _Merde_!'

The jazz music started up again, and Uncle Percy began to sing.

'_Oh, come and stir my cauldron_  
_And if you do it right_  
_I'll boil you up some hot, strong love_  
_To keep you warm tonight.'_

What in the name of Voldemort's saggy left buttock?

Uncle Percy was _horrible._ His singing voice sounded like something is dying painful and agonizing death in his mouth, or perhaps a thousand fingernails scarping a whiteboard all at once. My eardrums were _this _close to rupturing.

Somewhere at the back, someone exploded into uncontrollable guffawing. I got the faint suspicion it was Uncle George.

Uncle Percy seemed to be really enthusiastic, though. Apparently too enthusiastic, because when he sang, 'Oh my poor heart, where has it gone?' his voice cracked horribly on the "gone". He blushed and his horn-rimmed glasses titled sideways but nonetheless, he ploughed on, warbling about cauldrons and love.

Ah well, at least it's entertaining.

The sniggers and hoots of laughter eventually subsided, and everyone began swaying to Uncle Percy's screechy voice. Not the most romantic of songs, really, but it would have to do.

'Good going, Rosie!' Hagrid lumbered over, already drunk from the Firewhiskey. His beard was streaked with gray from age, and there were wrinkles all over his huge face. 'You planned it alright, didn't yeh?'

'Thanks, Hagrid.' He clapped me on the back so hard I pitched forward.

I'll have a large bruise there tomorrow.

'Hello, Rosie!' Dad called, waving me over. Thank Merlin for small mercies—at least Mum and Dad had stopped their atrocious dancing. I weaved through the crowd, trying to get the Mum and Dad.

'Congratulations, honey.' Mum enveloped me in a hug. 'You did it!'

'Just barely.' I mumbled into Mum's chest, instantly relaxing at her comforting smell. She smelt like the pages of new book and something vaguely peppermint-y.

'You're still alive, though, so that's a plus.' Dad said, beaming. He ruffled my hair, though I've told his plenty of times this irks me very much.

'Thank goodness Teddy didn't cheat on Victoire.' Mum exclaimed.

'He would never.' Dad said confidently. 'I knew that woman had to be mistaken.'

'Then why were you screaming "I'm going to bloody kill Ted!" when that woman came in?' Mum asked dryly, crossing her arms.

'You must've heard wrong.' Dad shrugged. This is how a typical argument between them starts. I quickly recognized the signs and slinked away sharpish as Mum said, 'Honestly, Ron, forty-two years old and you still have the maturity of a month-old fetus.'

'Oy!' I yelped as I bumped straight into something very solid.

'Oh, sorry.' That someone apologized. Apparently I'd collided with a person's firm chest. 'You—oh. Hello, Rose.'

It's Scorpius Malfoy, wearing a crisp white shirt with a tie circled around his neck and some black, pressed pants. I'm a bit surprised to see him here, to be honest. Scorpius is friends with Albus—they're both in Slytherin—but he's got guts showing up at The Burrow. Weasleys are supposed to hate Malfoys (Grandpa Arthur nearly had a coronary when he found out Albus and Scorpius were close acquaintances). He's a good-looking bloke, I s'pose. Blonde hair, these seriously intense pair of pale eyes, reasonably okay physique and a strong, lightly stubbled jaw. Lily thought he was the fittest bloke in Hogwarts, though, so maybe it was just me.

'Hello.' I greeted, smiling tensely. We're not exactly friends, Malfoy and I. In fact, I barely know him at all.

'Hello.' He grinned. 'Nice wedding. You planned it all?'

'Yes. It almost fell apart, though.' My mood soured at the very thought of that pregnant lady.

'I dunno, I was laughing my arse off when that woman showed up.' He snickered, tugging on his black tie. 'And who's the one singing?'

'My Uncle Percy.' I narrowed my eyes, daring him to say something mean. We Weasleys stick together, don't we?

'He's got a lovely singing voice.' Malfoy said mildly. Right on cue, Uncle Percy let out a glass-shattering yowl.

Well. I can't really say anything to that.

'You came here with anyone?' I fished around for something to say and cringed at my pathetic question.

'No. Albus invited me.' He added unnecessarily. Probably to reassure me he didn't crash the wedding.

'Right. Hope you're enjoying yourself.' I made to walk away but Malfoy stopped me.

'Ah.' Malfoy grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. 'One for you.' He handed me one, and I accepted it grudgingly. I'm not very fond of alcohol but I suppose one teeny glass wouldn't hurt. 'You don't look like you're having a very nice time.'

'How observant of you.' I said, only half-concentrating on our conversation. I was looking at Uncle George (he was only a little bit better than my Dad), who was twitching and thrashing about (I wouldn't call it _dancing_) a little too close to the cake.

'Why don't you relax?' he suggested, taking a small swig of champagne.

'I'm trying.' I snapped, rather irritated. I don't look _that _keyed up. 'The champagne will probably work.' I drained the entire glass in one gulp, tipping my head back to make sure I caught every last drop. I absent-mindedly licked the rim for good measure, and caught Malfoy staring. '_What?_'

'Nothing.' He murmured, looking away. 'Come on.' He said abruptly and grabbed me by my upper arm.

'What?' I squawked, trying to twist away.

'Let's get away for a bit.' He explained, tugging me along.

'But I need to be here if something happens!' I protested, trying to wrench his arm away but to no avail. His fingers felt cold and smooth on my skin and his grip was as sure as iron. 'Let me go, you tosser!'

He ignored me. 'Nothing is going to happen. You need to take it easy. Loosen up those tense shoulders of yours.'

I reluctantly followed, leaving behind the busy, pulsing crowd as he led me outside. It was a really beautiful night—the stars were bright, the moon was out and the grass was dewy. I had to pick up my dress a little so that the hem wouldn't get damp.

'Is there a pond of some sort here?'

'Somewhere in the front.' I said, and he let go of my arm. I massaged it, annoyed. Our footsteps crunched pleasantly on the crisp grass as we made our way through the dense foliage. Alright, fine, I'm exaggerating, but it really is like a jungle here. Grandpa Arthur and Grandma Molly seem to prefer it better when everything is growing wild in their backyard.

'Come on.' He put a hand on the small of my back and pushed me gently along. I slapped his hand away, scowling. 'Whoa.' He arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow, grinning. 'Sorry, then.'

'Here's the pond.' I stopped in front of a puddle of muddy water. Okay, it's not exactly a puddle and the water isn't all that muddy but it's hardly a nice place to relax.

Malfoy set himself down on the grass and gently lay down, hands behind his blond head and looking up at the sky. 'I do this every time I feel tense or jumpy.' He murmured.

'What—kidnap a girl and force her to follow you against her free will?'

He patted the space beside him imploringly.

I hesitated the slightest bit. There's the fact that I don't really know him, for instance. And he _is_, after all, a Malfoy. Who knows what he might do after I lie down next to him?

Ah, fuck it. The grass looked awfully soft and comfortable.

I sat carefully beside him (though taking care not to lie _too_ close—I don't want him getting any funny ideas).

'This isn't going to work.' I said softly as I wrapped my arms around my legs.

'You have to _lie down_.' He reminded me. 'It only works that way. Trust me.' I could just about make out his sharp profile in the moonlight.

'But I'll get all wet.' I said stupidly, but I lay down anyway. The grass tickled my shoulder blades as I arranged myself one foot away from Malfoy. This isn't going to work. Since when has lying down on a wet lawn with a dirty pond a few feet away from me ever been a cure for stress?

But strangely enough, it _did _work. Maybe it was the glimmering stars high above, or the shimmering half-moon, or the gentle trickling of pond water, or even the soft chirping of cicadas in the distance. I completely forgot Malfoy was lying down next to me. The frenzy of this morning slowly slipped away, and I was completely enchanted by the violet sky. Malfoy's soft breathing did a lot to soothe me, too.

Before I knew it, my eyes had slipped shut.

'You still feeling nervous and hassled?' Malfoy's velvety voice shook me out of my reverie.

'No.' I sighed, contented. 'I feel… calm. Thanks.'

'No problem.'

Two more minutes of companionable silence passed. 'I think we should get back.' I unwillingly sat up, my dress rustling loudly in the still quietness. 'I'm relaxed enough.' My limbs were heavy and pleasantly fuzzy, as though I was in some sort of trance. A lovely sort of trance, though.

'Wait.' I heard Malfoy sit up, grass crackling beneath him. Before I knew it, his smooth hands were on my bare shoulders. His cold skin sent goose bumps all over my hypersensitive skin. 'What're you doing—'

'Wait.' He repeated quietly. The hands stayed where they were. A hesitant pause, and…

I felt him press his surprisingly soft lips on my right shoulder, and just the tiniest flicker of a warm tongue.

I was up in a flash, gathering my skirts. My thoughts were spinning wildly, and my heart was beating a mile a minute. 'I have to go.' I said flatly. Without waiting for a reply, I sped off, stumbling about in the dark.

Merlin, Rose, you really are the biggest idiot in the world. All the signs were there—lonely pond, lying down on the grass, relaxing… and the champagne. Dear goodness, the _champagne._ Probably the oldest bloody rick in the fucking book. I should've known what he really wanted. I felt even more tense and on edge than before, mentally berating myself for my astonishing stupidity. You'd think someone like me would've been able to see through Malfoy's true intentions. You don't kiss someone on their shoulder like that if you're not looking for_something._ Stupid Malfoy. What a prick. Probably came to Vic's wedding for the sole reason of getting someone to sleep with him. Well, I'm not ever talking to _him _again.

I furiously reached back and roughly scrubbed my right shoulder, trying to erase the feel of Malfoy's lips on it.

I reached the bright, happy marquee. I hope no one noticed my flushed complexion.

'Time to cut the cake!' Grandma Molly cupped her hands around her mouth and called. She snapped her fingers, and the music stopped (much to the chagrin of Uncle Percy, who was really letting rip by now).

'Where've you been?' Albus, shuffled over, holding a half-empty champagne flute.

'Somewhere.' I muttered.

Albus swallowed the rest of his champagne and cringed. 'This stuff is sodding awful.' He gagged. 'I'd take Firewhiskey anyday. Oh, have you seen Scorpius, by the way?'

'Nope.' I avoided Albus' curious gaze.

'Really? I could've sworn he was here a moment ago—'

'I'll go get some cake.' I said vaguely, cutting him off and disappearing into the throng. I hope no one ever finds out. How embarrassing.

Grandma Molly, who was doling out slices of chocolate and vanilla layered cake to everyone who' d take on, handed me a huge one. 'Here you go, darling.' Grandma Molly smiled, wrinkles framing her bright brown eyes.

'Thanks.' I accepted the piece, still feeling sort of shaky.

I could _kill_ Malfoy right now.

Good God, I can't wait for this wedding to end.

--

It's nearly ten by now. I've taken every possible measure to avoid bumping into Malfoy again. Whenever I see a flash of golden hair (pretty easy, considering about ninety-five percent of the guests here had red/brown/black hair), I bend down and hurry away. It's working pretty effectively so far. It should be quite hard to find me, nearly all the girls here have long red hair.

'Stand back!' Uncle George yelled, and the crowd obediently stepped back a little, waiting in anticipation. Everyone was gathered outside the marquee, patiently awaiting Uncle George's fireworks display. 'I won't be responsible for any third degree burns.' He warned, and several people laughed, though I think Uncle George was being serious.

He carefully arranged the assorted fireworks in a row and pointed his wand at them.

'Ooh!' the guests exclaimed in unison as a bunch of fireworks began going off all at once. Red ones, yellow ones, green ones. One firework soared up into the air with a loud BANG and spelt out _Congratulations Vic and Ted_ in bright purple letters. Half the group screamed and ducked as some spitting sparks bunched together to form a long, snarling dragon. Catherine wheels spun in the air and barreled about, squealing.

Wow. These are bloody cool.

Someone's cold fingers touched my bare shoulder.

I didn't even bother to glance back; those cold fingers were entirely too familiar. I squeezed past Dom and Uncle Charlie, ignoring their grumbling. Shake him off, shake him off…

'Rose.' He caught up with me, panting.

I stepped into the empty marquee, pursing my lips.

'Rose.'

I really wish he'd stop saying my name.

'What?' I snapped as softly as I could, whirling around.

Malfoy looked at me steadily, hands in his pockets. 'I apologize for what happened just now.' He said formally. His face was carefully blank.

'Apology accepted.' I said shortly. 'I bet you thought I was going to be easy.'

Malfoy's eyebrows rose. 'What?'

'I bet you thought I was going to be easy.'

'Easy?' his brows furrowed.

Doesn't he know pretending he doesn't have a clue what I'm going on about is just going to infuriate me even more?

'You know what I mean.'

'I don't think I quite follow.'

'You know… the champagne, all that toss about getting me "relaxed"…' I was starting to wish I hadn't brought it up. 'You were obviously looking for an easy one.'

Malfoy's jaw slacked. 'You think I was only going after you because I thought you were an easy lay?' he said disbelievingly. 'What kind of slimy bastard do you think I am?'

'Er—look, let's just—forget about it.' I said uncomfortably. Maybe I was wrong. Still, it doesn't give him any right to go around kissing total strangers. Sure, the kiss was on my shoulder as opposed to the lips but still. It felt horribly violated.

'I'm really sorry.' He said sincerely, flushing a little. 'It was—impudent of me.'

'Too right.' I snorted. 'Yes, well—it never happened, okay?'

He paused, an indecipherable expression on his face. Merlin, why does his face have to be this blank mask all the time? 'It never happened.' He repeated, looking at his black, polished shoes. 'You honestly thought I just wanted an "easy one"?'

'I thought this subject was already closed?' I retorted. 'It doesn't matter.'

'Is it because I'm a Slytheirn?'

Gah, I couldn't even tell if he was angry or not.

'No—it's just—well, if you _weren't _looking for an easy one please explain why you—you did that.' I couldn't bring myself to say "kiss". It felt so bizarre. The thought of Malfoy doing_ that_, I mean. You know, since we barely know each other, and all. I mean, I've talked to him _before_—he is, after all, Albus' best friend—but it was mostly just "excuse me" or "what time is it"? He's come over a few times before for Christmas in The Burrow (Albus invited him) but most of the time he just hangs out with Albus.

This was a really awkward situation.

Malfoy considered my question for a moment, tilting his head. 'I dunno. You figure that part out.'

Well. Isn't that a lot of help?

'Rose!' Mum called, appearing from behind the marquee flap. 'You missed the fireworks display!'

'Sorry.' I said automatically, concentrating very hard on not looking at Malfoy directly in the eye.

'The wedding's over, your father wants to go home.' Hermione shot Malfoy a puzzled glance. 'Hello there, Scorpius.'

'Hello, Mrs. Granger.' He tipped his head. 'I guess I'd better get going. Bye.'

'Goodbye.' Mum waved uncertainly, glancing suspiciously between Malfoy and I. I guess my stiff-as-a-board posture must've given something away. 'What happened between you two?' Mum asked, confused.

'Nothing. Let's go.'

Mum and I walked companionably to the front gate, and I noticed with some surprise that I was already several inches taller than Mum. People were already beginning to file out of The Burrow in twos and threes. Ted and Vic were at the gate, biding goodbyes in each other's arms. Hugo and Dad shuffled around impatiently. The two of them are alike as two peas in a pod—both gangly, freckly and unbelievably immature. Course, Hugo—being sixteen years old—had an excuse for being immature.

'Let's go, I'm exhausted.' Dad complained.

'Bye, Aunt Hermione! Uncle Ron!' Teddy waved.

'Thanks again for the wedding, Rose. It was completely perfect.' Vic said warmly, cupping my hands in hers. Well, she'd better be! After all I went through, if she went and told me I could've done better, I'd have wrung her skinny neck.

'It was nothing.' I said wryly, though this couldn't be farther from the truth.

I know one thing, though—I won't be planning another one anytime soon.

* * *

**Author's Note:** :D So the two shot is over! Phew—sorry to keep the Rose/Scorpius hanging like that, I hope you liked it! I especially loved writing Rose/Scorpius—I absolutely love Scorp!


End file.
